


Thicker than Thieves

by 1800areyouslapping



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Father/Daughter Incest, Fluff and Angst, Inappropriate touching, Incest, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Praise Kink, Resolved Sexual Tension, literal daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 14:42:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12707067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1800areyouslapping/pseuds/1800areyouslapping
Summary: You’re the darling daughter of a certain infamous cowboy, and boy does he love you. He loves you a lot. Here he struggles with just how much he loves you, while you gather up the courage to show him you love him in the same way.





	1. Chapter 1

Jesse’s been gone on this mission too damn long. He’s all tuckered out, mentally and physically, and missing his baby girl something fierce. There’s no shortage of communication with his darling while he’s away, but nothing is quite as sweet as being in your presence. It’s on long stretch missions like the one he just got back from, that he finds himself longing for something close to a normal kinda life.

A nine to five, something that’ll bring him home to his baby and the daily. But an outlaw doesn’t get to have that, and watchpoint is the safest place for him and more importantly you. After the Swiss explosion, the two of you had spent too many years moving from hideout to hideout. His little girl deserve’s all of the security that comes with being aligned with Overwatch. If McCree’s being really honest with himself, he just might end up missing chasing after the bad guys, and a nine to five sounds like hell.  

As Jesse is walking off of the drop-ship he’s keeping a sharp eye out for you. He doesn’t see you, not yet. But if history serves him right then he’s gonna– suddenly a squeal of delight sounds off to his right–  _hear_  you, before he see’s you.

Jesse chuckles as he lets his duffle bag drop the floor. Quickly extends his arms to catch you as you come flying into his arms. Your nothing compared to his size, but you have a special way of making him feel surrounded. It’s all that hair, your scent. You’re overall presence of love and adoration that engulfs him entirely. 

Leaping up, you wrap your arms around his neck, and lock your legs around his waist. Kiss his cheek, leaving behind lip balm smelling of familiar roses and honey. Exclaim into his ear, “Welcome back to the ol’ corral, Daddy!”  

“Aw, thank you, Pumpkin. Did’ya miss your old man?”

Those big doe eyes roll. Of course, they do. “I’m always missin’ you, Daddy.” You drop down, but only for a brief moment before you’re hopping up onto his back. Nuzzling your chin into his neck you ask, “How long do I get to keep ya this time? Please say it’s forever.”

Keeping one arm hooked around your leg, McCree bends down to pick up his duffle bag. “How’s two months do ya?”

You gasp, your chest swelling against the armor on his back. “No fibbing!”

No fibbing. He is, in fact, home for two whole months. Two whole months he can spend being real lazy with his baby. McCree’s been promising you quality time for what feels like years now, and it’s about time he paid up. No “just a couple of days” or “maybe a week if I’m lucky” this time.

He’s carrying you through the halls of watchpoint, making his way to the apartment the two of you share. An old comrade, a kind pretty lady, stops him to welcome him back. She’s a special ops trainer, been working at watchpoint ever since the recall.

“Always nice to see you’re back on base, Agent McCree! If you’ve got some time later, we should celebrate your return with a couple shots of whiskey, what do you say?”

McCree was already gonna turn her down, despite the rumble in your chest that says he better. He feels for the woman, she’s been trying to get him alone for years. Jesse doesn’t date; no matter how much his comrades might insist that he should. Or how much his own affection starved heart might want it. It’s for the best. He doesn’t wanna bring anyone into his life that might ultimately end up breaking his heart and yours. A man’s gotta have his priorities, and dating’s not even close to one of them.

Besides, no one could ever have a grasp on his heart quite like his baby doll does. Jesse pats your thigh, soothing the little growl in his ear. “Sorry, but I already got plans with this special, little lady.”

She finally looks to you, as if she’s just realized you’re there. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t trying to steal your Pop from you.”

“Mhm.” Is the only answer you’ve got for her. You may be latched onto his back, but Jesse can still see the daggers and the hard line of your lips in his mind’s eye. What a possessive girl you are, not that it’s very shocking. He should probably scold you for it, but really he don’t mind it. It just might make his chest puff a little with pride. His sweet pea just loves him that much. How could he get bent outa shape about that?

Like him tryna discipline you would do much good anyway. You’re “grown” and you make sure he remembers it all the time.

The apartment isn’t much, but it’s home as long as he’s got you here. Anywhere is home as long as he’s got you. That’s how it’s always been, and how it’ll always be. You’re bouncing around exclaiming about all of the shows you’ve been holding off on for him. All the junk food you’ve hoarded. All the stories you’ve got to tell him about all the “absolutely scandalous” things that happened while he was gone.

Lord, does he love the sound of your voice. The little laugh after saying things that aren’t necessarily funny. The way you steal his hat to make dinner in it. He’s actually quite surprised that you hadn’t taken the thing sooner. You always seem to be of the mind that it belongs to you. He’s grinning at you just like any proud dad does. And you question him just like any cheeky daughter would. 

“What’chu smilin’ at, Daddy?” 

“Just your pretty face,” he says. Pausing to smile, and drink in the cute little purse of your lips and the pink rising in your cheeks. “Just happy teh see nothin’ changes ‘round here. ‘Specially you. Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, Pop.”

* * *

Every time bedtime rolls around it’s only a matter of time before you show up to cuddle with your Pop. McCree’s been home for a couple of weeks now and you’ve been awfully affectionate. Either you really, really missed your old man, or maybe you’re sensing that he’s a little starved for affections. And are tryna make up for it by being sickly sweet.

Jesse won’t ask. Wouldn’t want to make his girl feel bad over his decision to forgo physical relationships and love, that ain’t on you.

He’d be a damned fool to try and bring any attention to all the extra special time he’s getting anyway. A lot of parents he knows are tryna beg their kids just to text them back these days. And here he is, one lucky Daddy, he can’t pry his own baby girl away from his side, even if he wanted to.

The bed bounces as you hop on in. “Mind if I cuddle with ya, Daddy?” An unnecessary formality. It’s not like your actually asking. That’s a statement, sugar coated in a sweet voice, as your pulling back the covers and settling in before he can give you an answer. But he still gives you unnecessary permission anyway, cause he knows you like to hear it.

“Couldn’t sleep with out’cha, Angel.”

You scoot in real close, drape a leg over his own. Nuzzle your face in between his shoulder blades. McCree’s heart picks up its pace, thumps fast at the smell of you. His Sweet Pea smelling like real Sweet Peas.

Usually, Jesse can sleep like a bag of rocks. Especially when’s he’s got the comfort of his daughter at his back. Tonight’s different. He tosses and turns, several times. Has to readjust and bring you back with each readjustment. 

You don’t wake, not for very long at least. Taking after him in those respects, sleeping soundly. Only coming back to the waking world for a moment, with tiny flutters of your eyelids. A meek groan, before your off to dreamland again. This time as he tosses your arm around his waist and as your lashes meet the apples of your cheeks you whine, “ _Daddy_ …”

McCree’s sure it was meant to be the start of a protest, “daddy would’ja quit movin’”, but it sounded– raunchy. Almost seems like an echo of a woman he’s watched in the porn he consumes. His brow pulls together as he tries to swallow down the rush of blood before it happens. The sick twist of guilt. The tickle, and tug in his dick. It’s no good, he’s a weak man. A weak, weak, repugnant man.

The more he puts himself down for it the more his dick swells up. It seems when he said “nothing’s changed around here” that means everything. Not even him. He shouldn’t be all that aghast. He’s just in denial as he always is. McCree keeps thinking he’s gonna come back from one of these missions and magically stop popping boners cause of you. Though he tells himself time and time again it ain’t cause of you. He’s just lonely is all. That addictive denial he desperately clings to.  

Jesse peaks down. Such a glutton for his own guilt. Wants to see the physical representation of it. The head of his meaty cock peeking through the slit in his boxers. Growing even more as he catches a glimpse of the softness of your belly. Your shirt hiked up, disheveled from all of his squirming. Such pretty skin, and a pillowy little body.

He closes his eyes to try and will it all away. Only to makes things worse. Once he gets into a spiral like this there’s no stopping it. All he can see is the thing he swore to himself he’d never do again, but he tells himself that every time. Just like a true addict. Every time he has a real, deprived moment of weakness. When he uses the soft mounds of your sleeping body to cum. To relieve the aching in his dick, the itch of his skin that begs for a gentle touch or two. It’s been months since the last incident- only cause he’s been away for so long.

McCree can still see it clear as day. His cock as it slid up and down the small of your back. It was such a cold night and your skin was so warm. He had shut his eyes and tried to imagine he was fucking into the cunt of some faceless pretty lady. But that didn’t last. 

The only way he could cum was to think of you. His darling, baby girl spread out underneath him. Tearing open your virgin flower, gifting you with his seed. Getting his baby pregnant with his baby. His dick twitches at the memory, his slit seeping a dollop of milky-rich salt.

Jesse had a horrifying moment of panic when he had cum all over your back, stained the t-shirt you were wearing. Usually, he ain’t so reckless. Spent nearly an hour carefully whipping it all way. Rubbing out the fat cum stains from the cloth of one of your favorite t-shirts.

All of a sudden you scoot in closer. Hum and bury your face into his chest. Breath ghosting across his tufts of hair that you love to make fun of him for. Soft belly connecting with his crotch, a warm mass of skin settling around his shameful erection. He groans, he can’t allow this, he just can’t. Jesse’s not gonna give into his depraved impulses, not this time. It’s too early in his valued time home for this shit. He’s got to be able to look you in the eyes tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.

After nearly an hour of tossing you around like you’re a rag doll, it’s now that he’s careful when pushing you away. Too afraid to wake his darling sleepy girl. Couldn’t stand to see you uncomfortable. The look of fright and disgust that would be painted on your face, over something he’s too weak to be able to control.

Seems like nearly five minutes before he’s able to roll himself out of bed. Intent on heading to the bathroom to take care of his shame. Where he will try and fail, to think of the nice lady with the nice invitations for drinks. Instead of his beloved, darling, little doll; with the pretty smelling perfume, the plush lovely little body, and the sweet smile made sweeter by pink glossy lips. Yes, he’ll try and fail. Typical of a weak man like him.

* * *

McCree’s time during the day is still occupied. Occupied by bureaucratic’s and missions briefings. Plans for the future when his two-month, mission-leave is up. You too, are busy. Trying still to find your place within watchpoint. Still so unsure and scared that you’ll never figure out what your niche is. 

He’ll reassure you every time your little hands shake over it. That it’s okay, you’ll figure it out. There’s no need to bang your head against walls, and insist your not gonna amount to anything at watchpoint. That’s bullshit, to put it mildly.

“You think your Pop’s got everything figured out?”

“Na, you sure don’t, Daddy.”

“That’s exactly right.” That’s how those conversations typically go. He may be allowed to put himself down on the regular, but you sure as hell are not. Not while he’s around.

“You know, I think your girl might have a crush,” Satya states. Not looking directly at him while she speaks. Absentmindedly making shapes out of light. The meeting room is nearly empty. McCree had found himself lost in thought, it would seem Satya was too.  

“Are you tryna tell me I got somebody to chase off? Does dad need’ta get his shotgun?” His voice has an air of silliness about it. But the hot coal that fell into his stomach when he heard those words begs to differ. 

She gives one solitary chuckle for his words. “I don’t think shotguns are necessary. It’s just Lucio.”

“Lucio, huh?” Jesse supposes it could be much, much worse. If his Darling Heart is gonna fall into a crush, Lucio would be the most ideal out of all the boys at watchpoint. Though he’d rather you just– didn’t.

“Yes, he’s been teaching her to dance.”  

“Hmph.” Seems strange to him that he didn’t hear about this from you first. 

That’s all McCree’s mind can focus on for the rest of the day. Dancing, huh? You’ve been spending your time alone, with a boy,  _dancing_. The more he thinks about the act of dancing, the more it starts to turn into something else. A nasty knife of jealousy and possessiveness twisting in his gut. The knife tearing open a new flood of guilt. This is normal, isn’t it? Most dads wouldn’t want their baby girls dancing with anybody, ever. Right?

Except he can’t help but think, “unless it’s with him” and that ain’t normal.

Later when you’re both back together and settled in, nice and comfy. Sitting on the couch, watching TV. Stuffed full of junk food. Your butt seated between his man-spread legs. Knee’s pulled up to your chest, with your feet planted just on the other side of his thigh. Head full of hair leaning against his chest, a downright lion’s main. His arm draped around your waist, open palm on your thigh. All normal par for the course.

McCree decides to lightly question you about the news he received earlier. “Satya says Lucio’s been teachin’ ya to dance.”

“Mhmm.” 

“Says you might like ‘em”

“Hmm?” You shake your head. “Satya’s just tryin’ to play matchmaker.”

“S’okay if you like em, hun.” McCree rolls his eyes at his own blatant lie. 

You sigh through your nose. Crane your neck so you can look at him and smile sweetly. “Daddy, I don’t like Lucio. I mean, I like him, but I don’t  _like_  him.” You giggle at the ridiculousness of it all. McCree concedes an “alright then” and lets it go. If you insist then he’s just gonna have to take your word for it.

Then the living room falls into a comfortable silence. This is nice, just the way things are supposed to be. McCree is almost able to relax, but then you start shifting around. Trying to find a better position to fall asleep in. The doughy muscle of your butt brushing, and pressing against his crotch. Short, shorts riding farther and farther up, ‘til they’re revealing nearly an entire cheek. Over and over again you continue to shift. You just can’t seem to find a position that’s suitable enough for you.  

If he didn’t know any better Jesse could swear you’re doing this shit on purpose. Jesse sits farther back. Pushes his hips into the couch. It’s too late to bait back the heat that rushed into his cock, but he can at least keep you from feeling it. “Eh, Darlin’ would’ja mind not squirmin’ so much?” 

“Sorry, Daddy,” you say as you finally settle down. Head plopping back down onto his chest. Crossing your arms over your tummy, arms pushing your breasts together, and up. Almost spilling over the tight tank your wearing. 

“Aw hell,” he whispers under his breath. 

This is supposed to be his time to unwind. But the longer his leave creeps on the tenser his inner turmoil becomes. It feels like the weight of it’s sitting on his chest, refuses to leave like it usually would. 

McCree contemplates taking a few nights away. Swallow down a fifth of whiskey. Go and stick his dick into some stranger for a night. Then come back to see how he feels. But even in his fantasies of finding himself this miracle one-night stand that’ll cure him of all of his unsavory thoughts, the stranger always ends up morphing into you.

Your chin falls down to your chest. Chest heavily lifting, with your deep breathing. He places a hand on your face. Grazes his thumb along your cheekbone, stopping just shy of the corner of your mouth. He feels like a man possessed, as he brings his thumb back to drag it across your lips. Gathering up some of that lip balm that keeps them so soft and shiny. Curious he brings the digit to his mouth, rubs it along his lips so he can lick them, and get a hint what your mouth taste’s like.

A small piece of saliva connects from your top to bottom lip. Teasing the wetness, the warmth of that pretty little hole of yours. The tip of your pink tongue resting against your teeth. Weak, god damn, weak. His brain’s vacated his skull and moved into his cock. Jesse puts his thumb back. Presses it into the corner of your gaping mouth, sinking into the warmth. His chest shudders, oh that’s nice.

The hand that was innocently placed upon your ankle, moves into the space between your hip and his incessant, needy dick. Massages the swollen girth through his sweats. Pumping his thumb gently in and out from between your lips. Jesse would close his eyes so he could imagine easier. But he’s too afraid that the moment he closes them that yours will open. You’ll open up your eyes and realize that your daddy’s not at all the man you look up to.

“Flower, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers to you. Shoves his hand into the waist of his pants and jerk’s his dick fervently. Fist enclosed around his ruddy head, squeezing new bouts of pre-cum with every roll of his wrist. His labored breaths wafting the hair away from your forehead. Your own steady, sleeping breath making his thumb feel moist. Engulfed by the slick heat that his cock craves. 

McCree could fuck any damn person if he wanted. He’s not one to toot his own horn but he’s charming, good-looking, and he knows it. Is there really so little time in his life that he couldn’t go out for one night? Just one night every once in a while to satiate the primal need to fill somebody full of him?

No, it’s not time that’s keeping him from being able to get his dick wet. It’s his treacherous feelings for his own daughter. It’s cause he doesn’t just want any warm body. He wants yours. Wants to stick his cock into your tight pink, little flower. Spread it open, claim whats his. Give you a good enough reason to stay under his arm, and his alone.  

“You’re mine darlin’, you hear?” You don’t, but he just has to  _say_  it. What he’s really feeling, instead of trying to suppress it so hard it makes his head throb. 

McCree’s pleasure sneaks up on him. His hips lifting up, a whine escaping his mouth that’s far too loud for comfort. A hot flood of breath, bellowing onto your face. Scalding cum shooting out from under the waistband of pants. Splashing onto the stomach of his shirt. A small rope traveling so far, it hits the point of your chin.

“Shit,  _shit_.”

His seed stays there for a moment, dripping back down to where it came from, while McCree tries to figure out what the fuck to do. Neither hand is clean. One’s got the wetness of your mouth, the other the grimy salt of his dick. He makes do with a clean portion of his shirt and whips your chin clean. A simple solution made hard to come by, by fast-moving adrenaline. And the realization that he’s done what he swore he wouldn’t do,  _again_. 

Now that his conscience is making its way back into his head where it belongs he needs to get you outa his lap. Outa his lap and away from him. He can’t stand to have you there anymore. With all the filth and evidence, plain as a sunny day. He struggles to remember it. When his morals had become so damn askew. When had they become so mucked up, that he does this shit time and time again?  

Jesse lays you down in your own bed. Tucks you in, hoping that this time you’ll stay there. He’s too ashamed to give you a simple goodnight kiss, let alone have you crawl into his bed tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

If there’s one thing you love the most about these office get-togethers, it’s that you get to cling to your daddy. Show everybody just who his undivided attention belongs to. It’s bratty, and you’re well aware. All the times his attention gets torn away from whatever conversation he’s immersed into to acknowledged his little girl. It’s only right. After all, you’re his sweetie pie. His moonshine. His darling angel. His pumpkin.

Out of all of the pet names, the one you love hearing the most is more of a statement. “You’re my number one, Darlin’”. Those words solidify that you’ve got your Pop wrapped around your finger. The luckiest girl in the world. Having a literal hero to call your Daddy. Not every girl get’s to have a man dedicate themselves to them so wholly. And very rarely a man as amazing as your Pop. You couldn’t be more enamored, more engulfed in making sure your Daddy gets to have everything he deserves when he’s home. Just a lovesick puppy dog, tryna get your master to make an honest woman outa you.  

You may be cocky in your public affections, more so in the ones that you shower him within private. Knowing full well that you're driving him mad, within himself. But you’re not quite cocky enough yet to go the whole nine yards. You may dream about it. Think about it in every waking moment. Let it consume every free roaming thought you have. But fantasies don’t do much in the place of courage.

A familiar voice breaks through your inner monologue. “Hey there, Miss McCree! We on for some more lessons tomorrow?”  

You perk up and peel away your Pop’s side. “Oh hey, Lucio! Sure thing, I’ll be there!” You say as you wave wildly at him. Returning the amount of enthusiasm that Lucio gave you with your own. It’s only polite.

“Looks like somebodies smitten,” Daddy teases, nudging your shoulder.

“Am not!”

He puts a dramatic hand on his chest. “I’m a man who knows when a little lady is smitten.”

You scoff, and roll your eyes per the usual. But then you size him up, and state a matter of factly, “you do not.”

“You know I could teach you a few moves right now if you want. There’s no music, but I think we can make do,” Lucio says.

That actually seems like fun so you agree with it. “Sure!” As you're moving away to take Lucio’s hand, your Pop snatches up your wrist. It startles you, but only because the grip is strong. Not harsh, but insistent. Quick. You look at him with wide eyes and an obvious question. "What, Daddy?"

“Ya leavin’ me?”

Jealous, he’s jealous! Being a sweet girl you refrain from stating the obvious. Even if you’re simmering with a gloat. “Y’know daddy if you don’t want me to dance with other boys then your gonna have’ta ask for my hand.” Swinging your hips from side to side, you grin coyly. Snatch his hat from atop of his head and place it on your own. “Cause I feel like dancin’.”

Jesse places one hand on the small of his back. Bends forward, extending his other hand. “May I have this dance, Little Darlin’?”

Placing your hand in his, you give him a similar little curtsy. “Of course, you may, Daddy.”

You look back to Lucio giving him a shrug that says, “What can ya do?” Pop pulls you in close, places one hand on the midsection of your back. Takes your other hand and extends it out to the side. Your cheeks may be bright red apples, but you’re loving every moment of this. So many people are staring, all of them thinking that this impromptu father-daughter dance is just so damn precious. Typical of the cowboy and his cowgirl.

Thicker than thieves the McCree’s. Never a moment when they’re not being darling to each other. Pictures have already been taken. Off-handed comments made about how they’ll send them your way. You’d like to think that if you were back in the privacy of your own little home with your Pop, that this would be the moment when you might gather the courage to kiss him. Long and passionately just as you’ve been longing to do.

“Eh, Daddy? Would’ja whistle for me?”

“Sure thing, hun,” he says starting up a familiar tune. You’re favorite whistle. It ain’t got much melody to it, especially not for dancing. But you adore it anyway.

Suddenly McCree dips you. You giggle delightfully, throwing your head back. Your leg lifting gracefully between his legs. Knee-grazing the crotch of his jeans. When he brings you back up he tries to hold you at a distance. Rethinking his decision, he opts to quickly bring you back in, flush his chest. Angling his hips away from you, chest heaving against your cheek.

You’re about to tease him about being winded. Are you just that heavy? Can't he dip his daughter without losing his breath? But then you feel it against your hip. The bulge in his jeans. You don’t mean to bring any attention to it. You’re just so shocked to feel this when you’re awake and alert. Not in your dreams, or in brief lucid moments when you wake up to feel it rutting between your thighs. Not daring to stay awake for long enough to allow your body to tense up and scare him off. You can’t help but glance at it for the briefest of moments.  

No matter how brief it might have been, your Pop notices. McCree may look calm to others, but you can feel all of the tension seizing up his muscles. How badly he wants to bolt. You’re about to give him the sweetest of smiles, tell him that everything’s okay, when he states that he’s going to go out back to smoke a cigarillo. You’re only able to get out a strangled, “Wait—“ Before he’s already gone, and Lucio is garnering your attention.  

Not wanting to make your Pop’s departure seem like a big deal you give him your attention. Instead of waving him away, and running after your Daddy like you had really wanted to. One conversation turns into another one. Then another one, as more people join in. Forming a little circle of co-workers, and trainers. Commanders and lieutenants, holding liquored drinks. Making lewd jokes and talking about the latest news. Eventually, you’re able to leave the fray without any suspicion, using a polite smile, and saying, “sorry folks, a girl can only hold it for so long.”

Leaving the room you are determined. Sure that you’re not gonna let this incident go to waste. You’re gonna march out there and plant one onto your daddy’s mouth. Take in whatever smoke he’s holding, into your own lungs. Take it outa him, all the stress and guilt. Give him the relief he needs, that he deserves to have.  

McCree’s got a spot. A certain section just outside, near the facility track, that he likes to seclude himself into. Where he can go and smoke “in piece” without all the judgmental people who’d harp on how bad the habit is for him. Truthfully you’re one of those people. As you’d like to have your daddy around for as long as possible. But damn if you don’t love the smell of tobacco-- especially when it’s lingering on him.

When you round the corner, you're stopped dead in your tracks by the scene that you find there. Your daddy’s got that woman’s lips wrapped around his cock. Her head bobbing up and down, Jesse's eyes shut tight. The lit cigarillo clutched between pointer and middle finger, down at his side. His head looking so devoid without his hat, eyes shut tightly in concentration.  

You dip back around the corner quickly. Slamming your head back into the concrete so hard that you see stars. You’ve never been so pissed, so jealous that your chest hurts. It feels like your ribs are contracting in on themselves, heart thumping so hard you can feel it in your ears. Your entire torso turning into a giant expanse of heat. You should leave, most definitely go, and pout about it in your room. Peeking your head back around that corner is only going to make it worse. Going to make the tears welling up in your eyes flow down your flaming cheeks.

You do it anyway, despite knowing what’s good for you. Just in time to see the woman pull her mouth away, trailing long clear strands of saliva. Revealing your Pop’s soft cock. Did she already make him cum? Has she swallowed down his load?

“A-am I doing something wrong?” She asks. Her hand still gripped around his base, lazily stroking up and down. Trying to coax the blood into his dick. Having no more luck than she was when she had it engulfed in her mouth.

McCree shakes his head. “Naw, it ain’t you.” Shoos her hand away from his member and shoves it back into his pants. She seems to want to be understanding, but can’t help but look dejected, cause she is. The cowboy she’s been clambering after don’t want her. They’re both looking ashamed, the woman, and your Pop. While you're practically glowing with pride. You can forgive him for this. After all, he doesn't know any better. You take your leave, with newfound confidence. Hell-bent on making it back to your apartment before your Daddy does.  

Tonight’s the night you break the dam. Open the floods gates and let it all flow freely. Give your daddy what he deserves, and get what’s been coming to you.

  

* * *

 

McCree's bedroom is dark save for the low light of his bedside lamp. Jesse's head cradled in his own hands. Dejected, defeated. He had that pretty woman down on her knees. His soft cock, filling up the space of her mouth, as she was trying so hard to beckon the blood to flush into it.

The woman knew what she was doing too. Had a technic that would drive any normal man inside of himself, but not him. No, cause that woman couldn’t even compare to the simple contours of your body. Even when he found himself shutting his eyes to try and imagine your face down there, plush chap-stick lips, wrapped around his shaft, it still wasn’t enough.

He’d lost it as soon as he left you in that room. Knowing, good and well that you felt his shame that time. He’s gonna have to man up, apologize. Face his chagrin head on and—

“Daddy?” No, no. He can’t. Not right now, he’s not ready. He keeps his face buried in his hands. “Daddy? Are you alright?” 

“Fine-- I’m fine. Just-- let daddy have his bed to himself tonight, alright?” He sighs out a shaky breath. “We’ll talk in the mornin’.” 

Slowly you pad your way over to him. Each step deliberately placed. Stop just short of your knees touching his own. His eyes catch the sight of your bare feet first. Inching up the beautiful curves of your ankles. Up and up, over to your bare knees, and the wide expanse of bare thigh. Your crotch just barely covered by two fists holding down the bottom of one of his shirts. His cowboy hat atop your pretty little head.  

Thump, thump, thump. Faster than a hummingbirds heart in his ears. “Oh, sugar. Why’re you wearin’ that?” It’s been nearly a year since he’s seen that thing. He thought it had been lost to the void of the communal laundry room.

“Cause it reminds me’a you.” The corners of your lips pulling softly with a timid smile. “I wear it all the time when you're gone.”

“That’s real sweet, Pumpkin.” His hearts about to beat right out of his chest. So is yours, keeping your eye trained on every little nuance of his face. You’ve got that shirt pulled so tightly that the fabrics accentuating your tits. Nipples hard, and they’re the only thing he can focus on. How badly he wants to latch on. Suckle and nuzzle his face into those fleshy pillows.

Jesse’s so lost in the fog, that your knees sliding into place on either side of his hips startles him. When he looks up your leaning forward, cupping his face in your little hands, you kiss him. Humming, musically; leaning into him wantonly. Pressing your body deeply into his own.

You pause, just to get a look at him. Remove his hat dramatically, plopping it down onto the bed. Before you plant your lips back onto his own. Dragging your nails down his sideburns, sliding them back onto this scalp, all the way to the nape of his neck. Giving him wild goosebumps that run rapid down the length of his spine. He groans, a man tortured. Asks, as you between fevered kisses, “what the hell are we doin’?” You don’t have an answer for him. Just a wet open mouth, and a persistent tongue.

Lord, he’s swimming in it. All of the flowers, all those curls. The warmth, your fevered breath against his mouth. So damn in the deep that he’s nearly drowning. Drowning in how damn good your hands feel, as you shove them up underneath his shirt. Caressing his the small of his back, tracing the lines of his spine. His cock straining against the tightness of his jeans; the hardest he’s been in years. But his gut continues to fight him, tooth and nail.

McCree snatches up both of your arms. Pulls his face away from yours. His chest is heaving, head spinning. You’ve got to go. He keeps his eyes shut tight as he begs, “Darlin’, baby, I’m so sorry, but you gotta go. Go back to your bed, now. Just—“

“Dad,” you say in a commanding tone.

No ‘Y’, just Dad. “Dad’s” reserved for moments when you especially need him to listen to you. So he does. Jesse opens up his eyes, releases his hold on your arms. Very slowly you bring a hand back up to his face. Like you're tryna pet a skittish animal. Pet the sweat stuck hair back away from his face. Give him that saccharine smile and say, “It’s, okay.”

Bobbing your chin up and down, you weave your fingers into his hair and say it again, “It’s okay.” Place two flat palms on his chest, one on each pec, and push him back onto the bed. Plop right down on his swollen cock, still hidden away behind his jeans. Undulate your hips, close your eyes and moan. You’re not wearing a thing under that shirt of his. The bulge of his cock feeling like heaven for an engorged clit.

Jesse's chest seizes up again. His breath freezing up in his lungs. Laying down you press your forehead against his own. “Daddy s’okay, I want you,” you say with another roll of your hips. “I want you,” a whisper, accompanied by a tiny whine against his mouth.

Sitting back up, you're still rolling your hips back and forth. Slip your fingers under the front of his shirt. Use his happy trail as a guide, following it all the way up to his chest. Lift your hips briefly so he can get a gander at your bare pussy. “You’ve got every right to it, Daddy.” For a moment you pause your undulation. Dig your fingers into his pecs. Say, in complete earnest, “nobodies ever gonna love me like you do.”

McCree wholly agrees. Show it by finishing the removal his shirt. Tosses it off to the side of the bed. “That’s right, Darlin’… that’s exactly right.” Suddenly all of his floodgates fall. Setting forth all of the ministrations he’s been holding back for ages. Reaches out his arms and holds your hips flush against his crotch. “You’re my little girl aren’t’cha?”

Your breath shudders from your chest as your resume your gyrations. “I always will be, Daddy.”

Jesse uses his grip on your hips to roll you over onto your side. Slips a leg between your own, to press his knee up against your cunt as he tugs the shirt up your body, holding it just under your chin. His eager lips finding one of your perky nipples quickly. His hot, wide expanse of a mouth engulfing it entirely.  You arch your back, allowing him to have better leverage. Even if he’s suckling so eagerly. Tugging at your virgin tit so hard that it stings. It seems to soothe him, the rest of the tension melting away from his broad shoulder blades. Relaxing into your body. Moaning and groaning over your erect little nub. Laps and flicks his tongue, kisses the darker space around it. His beard tickles and scratches so much that you can help but giggle a little.

When he’s had his fill, he rolls you over onto your back. Slips the shirt over your head, so that you’re now butt naked. Suddenly you lose some of the confidence you had waltzed into this room with. Pulling your arms up against the chest that your daddy was just lavishing with his mouth.

“What’s the matter, sugar, you feelin’ embarrassed?”

You giggle, your chest heaving underneath your forearms. “A little.”

Jesse takes your wrists and plants them down firmly on either side of your head. “You don’t gotta thing to be embarrassed about, Angel.” He steadily releases your wrists, careful to make sure that you’re gonna keep them there.

He presses his lips deeply against your own, “there’s no,” moves down into your neck, “hidin’,” down over your clavicles, “this perfect,” between your breasts, “pretty,” litters your tummy with wet kisses, “little body,” he says as he stops at your navel.

“Not from me, Honey.”

He continues his way down, licking his lips every so often to make sure his trail stays glistening. Makes a home between your legs, face pressed lazily against your inner thigh. Enamoured by your plump, juicy cunt. Looking like he’s about to feast on the best meal he’s ever gonna have. Pop wraps one arm around your leg. Brings his metal one up, middle finger extended to insert it inside of you.

It’s only one, but it still causes your back to arch. Your hands to grasp at the sheets underneath you. “Oh. Is that sensitive, Pumpkin?” He teases as he pulls the digit back out and sinks it back in all over again. And over again, and again...

It’s when his mouth latches onto your pulsating clit, just the way he did to your tit, that you think you just might lose your mind. It almost feels like it might be too much for you. Like you might start begging him to stop, it feels so damn good. His tongue lapping between your folds. Wet mouths sounds, and heavy breathing as he kisses your nub. It may have been years since the last time your daddy did anything like this, but he certainly hasn’t lost his touch.

McCree slips another finger in, focuses in all his effort on flicking his tongue quickly against your sensitive little spot. Your body continuously writhing, hips lifting and falling back down to the bed.

No matter how much your back arches, or how much you may keen, he keeps at it. Staying latched on, ‘til your hands have found their way into his hair. Gripping so tightly it burns, whimpering “daddy” over and over. Thighs shaking, moaning so loud that surely someone must hear you. “Oh-- oh my god, please-- daddy, have mercy.”

Jesse grants you mercy. Pulls away after one more hard suck and a quick flick of his tongue. Sits up on his knees so he can slink his belt out from the loops that harbor it. Drinks in your body, with the flick of his wrist that undoes his zipper. Shakes his head from side to side. “Baby girl, you’re unreal.”  

You’d be a fucking liar if you said you’ve never seen a dick before. Well, at least not one in person. But the point is your daddy’s cock is the most beautiful one you’ve ever seen. Intimidating as it’s here in the flesh, bobbing and jerking with every intake and exhale of his breath. Knowing that he’s getting ready to lay down on top of you and sink it into your virgin flower.  

You spread your legs for him. McCree leaning in to run his meaty head along your folds. Pressing gently into your entrance, just to tease. Leaning forward you grab his hips. Whine and beg, “Come on, Daddy, stop teasing, break me open.”

The pupils of his eyes widen, as he slowly crawls on top of you. Placing elbows on either side of your head, careful not to plant any pressure onto the hair splayed out, framing your flushed face. Reaches down between your bodies to line up and thrust into you. Only enough to sink the tip in, but it’s still enough to take your breath away. He whispers, “Where the hell’d you learn to talk like that.”

Not really a question, more of an observation. As he doesn’t allow you enough time to grant him an answer. He mashes his mouth against yours, lowers himself down. The bulk of his body pinning you down onto the bed. His cock sinking further into your chaste, velvet. Throwing your legs up you lock them around his waist. Wrap your arms around his neck, placing a hand on the back of his head.

It doesn't hurt, not much at least. It more like an immense pressure like your never felt before. He rocks into you slowly at first, gentle strokes. Not quite giving you all that he’s got. Sinking into you a little bit further with every little whimper of “more” that’s breathed against his lips. Until, eventually you slide your hands down the slope of his back, to press your fingers into dimples of his cheeks, encouraging him to settle in all the way to the hilt.  

The groan your daddy lets off in your ear sounds so nice it seems like music. “Fuck, darlin’ you’re just the softest thing--” Another groan, boarding on a growl. McCree’s hips picking up pace, your nails digging into the small of his back. Whimpering with every rut, every long drag that ends with a snap of his hips. Throw your head back and cry out, as a particularly deep thrust jabs against your limit.  

It feels so good, and you’re just feeling your daddy so much, your hips gather a mind of their own. Rolling in tandem with the timing of his thrusts. “Oh-- damn sugar, that’s good-- oh, you’re so good for me.” Even faster now, skin to skin slapping and shared moaning filling the void of silence.

You’ve never felt so full, so warm. All the pressure, that feels like fuzzy ecstasy in your core. Just a few more quick, deep thrusts away from releasing. Jesse’s chest shake’s against your own with each labored breath. Mouth agape against your cheek. Hot, bellows of air wafting your hair about. You're so lost inside of yourself, that you barely hear him say, “baby, I love you so damn much.”  

“L--love-- you too, Daddy.” 

You’re both so, very close. Just on the brink of releasing together. “Ah! Daddy-- I can’t wait to have your baby--” A harsh thrust cuts you off. “Cum in me, please,” you beg. Suddenly his body seizes up, hips remaining flushed with yours. A string of curses flowing from his lips to your ear. You cum together as he’s draining his hot, load inside of you. Rope after pent-up, milky-white rope. Your heels digging into his spine, nails raking across his shoulder blades. As your hips continue to roll underneath him, chasing after every last bit of him that you can get.

Jesse collapses on top of you. A big mass of sweaty muscle, and hair blanketing over your body. “Am I crushin’ you, Sweet Pea?”

You shake your head. Let your legs fall limp down next to his, but keep your arms hugged around his body. “Na, daddy, I’m good.” You didn’t think it was possible to feel even more loved by your daddy, but here you are absolutely surrounded by it, filled with it. Both of you comfortable, glowing after getting exactly what you’ve wanted, each other.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [ Tumblr ](https://1800areyouslapping.tumblr.com/)


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